


Nice Guys Finish Last (2)

by anotherFMAfan



Series: Nice Guys Finish Last [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Jean Havoc Appreciation Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherFMAfan/pseuds/anotherFMAfan
Summary: "Why does it have to be me?!" Havoc gaped. Eventual RoyXHavocXEd, Havoc->Roy this part.Warnings: AU in which Al is restored and Ed is 17. OCs.





	Nice Guys Finish Last (2)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jean Havoc Appreciation Week 2017, April 30th, "Sexy Outfit Havoc Day."

“Captain Johnson is a woman?”   
  
“Last I heard,” replied Mustang, looking amused as he tapped the edges of the stack of paperwork on the top of the desk to even them. Jean glanced at Breda and Fuery beside him. Kain looked similarly surprised, but Heymans put a hand to the side of his mouth and lowered his voice.  
  
“And from what _I_ hear d, she’s got the build and the face of a—”  
  
“Lieutenant,” Mustang cut in lightly, stopping him just in time, and then turned back to Jean as he slid the finished paperwork into a large envelope. “She is well qualified for the position. And she has a reputation for not pulling punches, especially when it comes to internal issues. That was probably the biggest factor in the brass’ decision to send her to East Headquarters in the first place.”  
  
Jean looked from Mustang to Breda, and leaned back where he stood to rest on the edge of the desk.   
  
“But?” he prompted when no more was forthcoming. He doubted they’d be going to all the trouble to invite the captain out to see them in Central if the story ended there.   
  
“But,” the colonel agreed with a little wry smile, “The chief of military police tells me things have been proceeding...less than smoothly since she arrived at her post.”  
  
“Apparently a history of bad blood there,” Breda informed him. “As if mutual leash-tugging weren’t a big enough problem as it was between the peacekeeping forces and the MPs out there.”   
  
Mustang nodded, and folded his hands over the desk. He had on that keen, intensely focused look on his face that he always did when cooking up something important, a face so at odds with how he presented himself to those outside the very closest of his staff.  
  
“With the captain and the chief both of a mind to root out the last of the sour apples in the eastern administration, we expected things to stabilize fairly quickly....” Mustang shook his head. “But that hasn’t been the case.”   
  
“So you’re going to... talk to her.”   
  
“Yes. And first get an idea of exactly what the situation is, to determine how we’ll need to approach the chief of police. The captain will be bringing her two top lieutenants, Velez and Kirkland, as well. You can leave the content of the meetings with the three of them tomorrow to myself and Lt. Breda. We are well prepared on that front. But...we need to ensure before they begin that the captain is receptive to listening to what we have to say.”  
  
“Okay,” said Jean, frowning as he considered that for a moment. “So...what did you have in mind?”  
  
Roy smiled at him, dark eyes smirking at him secretively, but Jean had years of practice now at not letting his expression change even when his stomach flipped under that gaze.  
  
“I’ve obtained some valuable intelligence on the good captain.”   
  
“And what might that be?”   
  
“As formidable as she is, she has two weaknesses.” Mustang held up one slender finger. “The first being the taste of a tall glass of good beer—”   
  
“That’s why you picked Mulligan’s for the welcome party,” chucked Breda, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was wondering.”   
  
Mustang cast a conspiratorial glance in Breda’s direction.   
  
“Pricey, and not usually an appropriate choice for business,” he agreed. “But can’t be beat for a brew.”   
  
“Hear, hear!” said Breda, and Fuery nodded, too, prompting Breda to give him a fist-bump which made the shorter man wince.  
  
“And?” Jean pressed, wanting to get to the point. “What’s the other?”  
  
Mustang’s smile widened as he swept his eyes up and down the length of Jean’s body in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable, lowering his raised hand and pushing back slightly from the desk. Then he opened one of his desk drawers, and pulled out a large folded ops shirt.  
  
“The first, the taste of a tall glass of good beer,” he repeated. “And the second, the sight of a tall blond military man.” The colonel met his eyes then as his smile began to show teeth, and there was no mistaking who he had in mind.  
  
“Why does it have to be me?!” Havoc gaped as he snatched the shirt tossed at him out of the air before it hit his face. “You mean you’re going to make me walk around in this all afternoon?!”   
  
“You’re our only blond,” pointed out Fuery, looking apologetic.  
  
“Well,” corrected Mustang with a very particular smirk. “You’re our only _tall_ —”  
  
At that moment, the door to the office burst open, and all of them jumped.   
  
Edward Elric stood in the doorway, wearing a dark coat and carrying a large cardboard box. He looked around the room once, and frowned.   
  
“What’re you guys talking about?” he asked.   
  
“Nothing,” insisted every single person in the room at the same time.   
  
Ed’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
“Thank you,” said Mustang quickly, nodding to the box. “If you would set it in the corner with the others.”  
  
Edward paused, looking over them all once more, but finally turned to do so.   
  
“How does he _do_ that?” Breda muttered to Jean.   
  
Havoc snickered and glanced over to the corner, only to find sharp golden eyes fixed right on him. Clearing his throat he quickly turned back to the group.   
  
“Lieutenant,” Mustang addressed him, “Go change your shirt. You can leave your jacket in your locker. You won’t be needing it.”  
  
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, sir,” said Havoc pleadingly. He had gone to all the trouble to wear his nicest standard-issue collared shirt he had left since they had important visitors coming, and all the rest of the staff were wearing theirs, too. Not only was it not the occasion to be anything less than polished up to protocol, it wasn’t even warm enough to warrant walking around with his jacket off at all. He’d stick out like a sore thumb.  
  
“I told you to go change, Havoc,” said Mustang, voice carrying just a hint of warning as he drew himself up in his chair. “You don’t want me to have to tell you twice. The captain and company will be here in less than an hour.”   
  
Jean gritted his teeth, but kept himself from grumbling. He knew that face the colonel was wearing like the back of his hand, and it told him quite firmly there was no getting out of it now.   
  
“Yes, sir.”   
  
He stalked to the door and opened it, letting an sigh escape him as he entered the hallway, but managing to resist snapping the door closed, though he wished he had when the sound of Breda and Fuery snickering reached his ears.  
  
Jean headed down the hallway toward the locker-room, muttering to himself. As irritated as he was, he didn’t even notice when the office door opened behind him and someone slipped out of the office to follow behind quietly....

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be completed next year during Havoc Week 2018.


End file.
